The in-between times

I remember when my Dad would work late nights - he was a public school teacher who also pulled the 3-11 shift as a security guard so that we could spend our summers at the shore (Ocean City, NJ).  Doing that kind of thing wasn't cheap and he would grab these gigs to make sure had great summers.

Eating early as a family and watching him take off out of the driveway always made me a little apprehensive.  I had all kinds of things to do before the sun would fall down between the trees, but something about your dad leaving when you are under 10 years old makes you a little unsettled.

I would play the rest of the day, have a later 'dinner' of some sandwiches with the rest of my family (because we ate earlier as a family with my dad before he left).  After dinner I would pretend I was doing homework and then play some more before the running of the dishwasher signaled bedtime.  And then I would lay in bed until I saw his headlights reflect on my wall as he pulled in the driveway at about 20 minutes past 11:00.  I knew that my dad was home.  I felt better then.

As my dad ambled his way up the steps I would let out a quiet little "'night dad" and he would poke his head in and tell me good night and that I should be asleep.

I couldn't be asleep - my dad was gone.  It was the in-between time - just waiting for him to return.

I can't help but in a small way feel like that right now.  It is 7pm on the Saturday after Good Friday and the Sunday before Easter.  I know it is over and everything has already been accomplished, but I feel like I am in the 'in-between' time.  Just a little apprehension about the gap between crucifixion and resurrection.  Where is He?  Is He alright?  When can I see Him again?

. . . looking for the lights of His return.